


From the Sky

by wilddragonflying



Series: WIPs that I really should finish.... [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel!Winchesters, Fallen Angels, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this tumblr post by sockmonkeyrenegade: </p><p>I think one of my favourite things ever is the fact that before she watched Supernatural, my girlfriend literally thought that the plot was that two angels had fallen from heaven as children, and were found by an old drunk named Bobby who called them Sam and Dean, and chose the name “Winchester” after his favourite gun, then raised them to hunt monsters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> So, as the summary says, this is based off of a tumblr post.
> 
> Yes, I tagged it as wincest; honestly, I'm not sure if (should I go back to embellish this some more) it'll be explicit, but I am sticking with the canon that Sam and Dean are soulmates. I believe that would still apply even if they're fallen angels.
> 
> I'm going to be working on this off and on, maybe molding it a bit to semi-follow the canon series. I've got vague ideas for twisting the main plot of each season, but really I'm just flying by the seat of my pants here, haha.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

He found them in the middle of a field.

There had been a news article of two entwined trees; one ash tree, and one holly tree. The trees were located in a field in Kansas, and when Bobby arrived, he was shocked to see two boys-- they couldn't have been more than two and six-- curled together, the older protecting the younger, and the last vestiges of silver threads of light disappearing into their bodies.

Bobby wasn't stupid; he approached carefully, making his presence known. The elder boy was the first to wake, and he stared at Bobby with piercing green eyes. Bobby was frozen to the spot, couldn't have moved even if he wanted to, until the boy nodded, just once, and sat up slowly, murmuring softly to the younger one when he grumbled discontentedly. Bobby moved closer, kneeling in front of the boys. "Hello," he said quietly.

The elder boy tilted his head, and then replied, "Hello."

**~~//*\\\~~**

Bobby took them home with him; when he had asked the boys if they had names, the younger had looked to the older, who had opened his mouth-- what came out wasn't any language that Bobby knew. The elder had frowned, but Bobby just offered a smile. "I'll just give you names then, okay?" When they'd nodded, he'd thought for a moment, before deciding on, "Sam and Dean." He pointed to the younger then the older, and they'd smiled, nodding agreement. "I'll probably need to give you a last name," he mused, holding Dean's hand as they walked back to Bobby's car. "For legal reasons." He continued thinking while he helped them into the car, and it was only after he started the car that he settled on a last name. "Winchester. It's a good, dependable gun-- it's a good name."

**~~//*\\\~~**

Sam and Dean were inseparable; even as they grew into teenagers, they still shared a room and-- Bobby suspected-- a bed. They worked together seamlessly as Bobby trained them; after the first time Dean and Sam had given him identical "we're disappointed you even tried" after he tried to cover what he'd been doing on a hunt, he'd started training them.

The first time Bobby became seriously concerned about just how powerful the two boys were was after he came home one day from grocery shopping to Sam and Dean sitting on the porch drinking lemonade, two bodies near them with their eyes burned out. Bobby looked at them in surprise, and Dean shrugged. "They tried to take me and Sam," he said simply, seemingly planning to leave the explanation at that.

"What were they? Humans?"

Dean shook his head. "Demons," he answered.

**~~//*\\\~~**

It took Bobby a while to find reliable research-- neither of the boys were much help; when Bobby had asked them how they'd killed the demons, Dean had shrugged and said, "I touched their foreheads, and told them to leave. They did."

Eventually, however, Bobby found his answer, impossible as it seemed: His boys were angels. Fallen angels, to be precise. The lore was sketchy, but there were details enough for Bobby to fill in the blanks with some educated guesses. They had fallen as children, and without being trained by actual angels, they were running off of instinct. They were powerful beyond belief, but even angels weren't invincible; they could be trapped by burning holy oil, and killed with an angel blade, whatever that was. Neither of them had any clue what the angel blade might look like, or really any memory of Heaven; Dean and Sam both said the first thing they could really remember clearly was waking up in the clearing and seeing Bobby.

It had taken Bobby a bit to adjust to the fact that Heaven was real, even though, logically, he had always known it had to be. Demons existed, after all; demons had as good as killed his wife. Logically, there had to be a force to oppose the demons, to keep the balance. For a little while, he had been wary around his boys, cautious in his behavior. He didn't want to accidentally piss them off.

That had ended when Sam and Dean had sat him down and told him that they would never harm him-- he had raised them, most likely had saved their lives. They owed him a life debt, and as such, they would never do anything to endanger him, and would, in fact, do their utmost to protect him. Bobby had tried to wave it off, but the boys had insisted-- "It's only right," Sam had said earnestly. "You have given us good lives, better than we might have gotten elsewhere. You have also given us a purpose, to help protect this world. We owe you ourselves."

**~~//*\\\~~**

Sam and Dean took to hunting with almost frightening ease; they rarely used their angel powers, preferring instead to do things the 'normal' way-- less conspicuous that way. They had a perfect case record, at least until Bobby tried to get them to hunt a shifter.

"No," Dean said firmly.

"No?"

"No." Sam was the one to speak that time, and unlike his brother, he elaborated, "This shifter has done nothing wrong, has killed no humans. Above everything else, angels were created to protect human life. This shifter has shown no sign of wishing harm upon any human-- has done its best, in fact, to blend in. We will not kill it, nor will we allow you to."

"Now see here--" Bobby spluttered, but before he could say anything else, Dean had him pinned to the wall by the throat; the boy may have just turned twenty, but he had the strength of an angel and the build to back it up.

"No," he growled, and a few knick-knacks started vibrating on the shelves. "We. Are. Angels. Whatever else you may think of us, we are protectors of humanity. Shifters in general may be a threat to humanity, but this one in particular shows no sign of sharing the afflictions of its brethren. We will not harm it." Dean kept his hand around Bobby's throat until the hunter finally nodded. Dean stepped back, and Sam stepped forward, laying a hand where his brother's had been only a moment before to ease the soreness.

"You have raised us to be hunters, but our instincts are far more powerful than any human's," the boy murmured, looking up to meet Bobby's gaze. "And we cannot disobey them, not as young as we are. We owe you much, Bobby, but this is not something we can do."

**~~//*\\\~~**

When Sam was eighteen, John Winchester dropped by.

Ever since his wife and child had been killed in a house fire that a psychic-- a _real_ one, not one of those crackpots or con artists-- later confirmed was caused by a demon, John had been... more than a little unhinged. He was obsessed with finding the demon, with killing it. However, in the course of his research, he had found that only a gun and bullets specially made by Samuel Colt could kill the demon, and that was the reason for his latest visit. He thought he had a good idea where it was, he just needed Bobby's help.

It would be the first time Bobby's boys met John-- the last time the other hunter had dropped by Singer's Auto Parts, they'd been hunting down a nest of vampires.

Sam and Dean were both reading in the study when John showed up; they were expecting Bobby, so Sam simply flicked a wrist to open the door. In hindsight, they should've checked first, especially since Bobby had told them an old friend of his was going to be dropping by. Only Bobby knew what they were, as was evidenced by the hunter-- John-- entering with a knife drawn, his stance defensive.

"Who're you?" he demanded, glaring at the two strangers.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances and then stood up, their movements perfectly synchronized. "I'm Sam, and this is my brother, Dean."

"What are you? That door shouldn't have opened on its own."

"That would be my fault, sir. Little rig I whipped up for when Sam's too busy researching to get up and answer the door," Dean answered, inclining his head respectfully.

John still looked unconvinced, but luckily they could hear Bobby's car pulling in. He entered the house in a hurry, calling for Sam and Dean, only to freeze at the tableau before him. "Dammit, John, put that knife away!" he growled, coming up and shoving John's arm down. "It's just my boys, for Christ's sake."

Sam and Dean both glared at him, and Bobby rolled his eyes; taking the Lord's-- in any form-- name in vain was a conversation they'd had many times.

"The door opened by itself!" John protested, though he didn't fight Bobby's hand.

"Dean's a tinkerer, he's been doing a lot of stuff around the house that half the time I don't understand. Figures he's messed with the damned door, too. It's not gonna fall off the hinges, is it, son?" Bobby asked, looking at Dean pointedly.

Dean shrugged, grinning innocently. "Only if someone slams it," he said cheekily, only to grunt when Sam elbowed him in the ribs. "I mean, no. Not because of anything I do."

"See? Now siddown so I can find that paper about the thrice-damned gun I spent a goddamned fortune finding," Bobby ordered. Sam and Dean resumed their reading while John perched warily on the couch, grunting a thanks when Bobby handed him a tumbler of whiskey. "Now, this gun you're after, an old hunter's got it. Lives in Manning, Colorado, but he's been having some trouble with vampires. You might want to go find him before they do."

**~~//*\\\~~**


End file.
